It was later, later on that second night I spent in Las Esperanzas, I mean, much, much later. The time was well after the hanging; it was long after Ernie Obregon had been boxed and buried and it was well after I had missed my first chance at the freedom bird back to Miami. As I told you before, I was back at the hotel, half shit faced and, since I had now failed for two nights in a row to turn up any wild chica mujeres, once again I was alone with nothing to do, a partially stiff lonely dick and the beginnings of what would turn out to be a decently sized hangover. Times like that I grow introspective and analytical.
Then there are the times when methodical thinking follows the alcohol and introspection and if my resulting mood deteriorates too far I sometimes wind up getting myself into a jam. I say that because it's happened before.
So there I was, sitting on the bed with a couple of stale tacos, a half a bottle of some really questionable wine, a few crumpled cigarettes and I was sifting through the journey, the reasons for it and what I was going to do from that point on.
"Hey pal," Stiletto Jane said as she unbuttoned her top, revealing a lace bustier underneath. "I'm just here to take care of the partially stiff lonely dick. If I have to listen to you grousing about your pathetic life, too, it's going to cost you double."
Opening: John Dwyer.....Continuation: Freddie